Through talking to therapists and observing behaviour, it is becoming more and more apparent that Emily is displaying some symptoms which may not be her own. One therapist suggested that she was 'collecting' symptoms from other young people on the ward. I am inclined to agree. Sometimes things just don't fit, they don't feel right. I'm not saying my daughter isn't ill, but I do feel her reluctance to rejoin the real world is making her seek out ways to extend her stay in the unit.
I'm told she has 'demonised' her father in therapy sessions yet last weekend, when he came to the house to see my son, she bounded in to him like an excited puppy.
After a weekend where I could seen a good amount of the 'old' Emily having a relaxed time, she informed me right at the end that the whole weekend had been terrible. The house had been full of people and animals that only she can see. It's hard. If she had seen them, why did she not say at the time or get upset? Why leave it until her last few hours in the house? I just don't understand and neither do the therapists.
I'm told I need to be stronger with her. That maybe she is trying to pull my strings. That she needs to realise that her symptoms are ones of depression and anxiety and to conquer them she needs to do some work.
They are so concerned about the 'collected' symptoms that the last review meeting recommended that her nights on the unit were reduced gradually to get her back to a day attender. They also want to get her integrated back into her mainstream school. I know this will be hard for her, but she is very lucky that the school will accommodate her in a small specialist unit until such time as she can re-join the main classes. In my mind this is what she needs. It will give her back some purpose, a reason to get up.
This weekend, she was totally engrossed in drawing. We managed a couple of walks during the weekend and to be honest I thought how much like a normal stroppy teen she was, laughing one minute and arguing with her brother the next. Then it gets to 9pm on the Sunday again and she is in her room. When I go in to see her, her eyes are angry and wet with tears. She has once more written "I want to die" on her arm. I challenge her. She shouts nastily at me, "you don't understand" "you don't believe me" "I've had a terrible weekend" "it's been horrible". I challenge again. She may be feeling bad now but it has not been the whole weekend. I remind her of all the things she has done and the times when she has seemed like a normal girl. I tell her she should be proud of her achievements. She can not see it, she doesn't want to.
She told me she wanted to ring the unit. It is a suggestion they made if she wanted to hurt herself. I leave her room and give her privacy.
Five minutes later the phone rings. One of the nurses tells me how upset Emily is and that she has tied something around her neck to hang herself. I go to Emily's room, there is nothing around her neck, nor are there any marks. The nurse is still on the phone and then says that Emily is upset that I don't believe her and they tell me I shouldn't leave her on her own. Why is this happening again? I ask her and she just shouts at me. I make her come downstairs. The tv is off and we sit in silence. I have nothing left to say. It feels like I am being punished.
She asks to go in the shower. I ask her for assurance that she will not hurt herself. When she returns from the shower it is like she's changed again. The atmosphere is frosty between us, but it is clear that she is feeling calm and ready for bed.
I am so frustrated. I admitted to my husband this evening that I don't know this girl any more. I feel like she is playing some game, but I don't know the rules. But its more than that because now I am so terribly ashamed to realised that I don't like her and I don't like how she is hurting me and the other members of my family.
I'm supposed to be her mum, but I'm not sure I'm acting like one
A diary of ongoing events documenting mental health issues of mother and daughter
Tuesday, 30 October 2012
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
Better or worse?
Emily struggled at home on Friday evening. Knowing I'd had a conversation with her father had obviously affected her. We ended up watching a DVD of her choosing to pass the time until 10pm, definitely past her bedtime.
On Saturday Emily had the urge to clean my car, I followed her buffing with some scratch polish. She was very animated saying that car cleaning, especially alloy wheels, should be part of therapy. It was nice to see her enjoying doing something. It was even better knowing she'd asked to do it.
In the afternoon I suggested we sort out her bedroom. The floor is strewn with 'stuff'. There are random piles of it, there are carrier bags of it, there are gift bags full of it. I guess this is really a typical teenage bedroom, but in my mind it made her room unwelcoming and chaotic. So many things didn't have a home.
At times she admitted she found the process stressful, but in the end, she agreed the outcome was worthwhile. A room where most things, had a home.
Saturday night was easier. Thank goodness for Casualty.
On Sunday my son and husband went for a bike ride. Emily was adamant she didn't want to go. Instead we stayed at home and she prepared the meat and vegetables for the slow cooker. This had been part of her 'objectives' for the weekend. Vegetables require sharp knives and I therefore found myself cleaning the oven to ensure I was within supervision distance.
Sunday night I returned her to the unit. I was well aware that she had found the weekend hard. Her spirits had been very low. She had not self harmed and I was grateful for that, but instead there was a great sadness in her.
Yesterday, I heard nothing from her. She never turned on her phone. I decided to leave it. If she wanted me she could call. If there was a problem, the nurses would call. Even so, I did not rest easy.
This evening my husband and I visited the unit. Emily was nowhere to be seen. One of the other young people told us she was in her room upset and nurses were with her.
When she finally came into the corridor, where we waited, she was flanked by two nurses. This was unusual behaviour. We were later than normal and I wondered if it was a reaction to this.
Once in a small meeting room the nurses proceeded to inform us that Emily had been found curled up on the floor of her room by another young person. She was upset that someone, unseen to everyone else, was in the room with her. As I sat beside Emily her left leg shook up and down constantly, she looked at the ground and she aggressively worked a stress toy in her hands.
The nurses left. Emily shouted that the person she could see was sat in the room with us and ran out. When she came back with a nurse I talked to her about the daft things her brother had done. He'd done cooking at school and had added a tablespoon of black pepper instead of a teaspoon... We'd had his cooking for our evening meal. That was enough to make anyone laugh and from there we kept the conversation light and funny.
On the way home in the car, my husband started to try to analyse Emily's behaviour. In the end I stopped him. I don't know if Emily is really seeing things. I don't know what on earth is going on and no amount of talking is going to change that. One thing I do know, she doesn't appear to be getting any better, in fact I'd say she's getting worse.
On Saturday Emily had the urge to clean my car, I followed her buffing with some scratch polish. She was very animated saying that car cleaning, especially alloy wheels, should be part of therapy. It was nice to see her enjoying doing something. It was even better knowing she'd asked to do it.
In the afternoon I suggested we sort out her bedroom. The floor is strewn with 'stuff'. There are random piles of it, there are carrier bags of it, there are gift bags full of it. I guess this is really a typical teenage bedroom, but in my mind it made her room unwelcoming and chaotic. So many things didn't have a home.
At times she admitted she found the process stressful, but in the end, she agreed the outcome was worthwhile. A room where most things, had a home.
Saturday night was easier. Thank goodness for Casualty.
On Sunday my son and husband went for a bike ride. Emily was adamant she didn't want to go. Instead we stayed at home and she prepared the meat and vegetables for the slow cooker. This had been part of her 'objectives' for the weekend. Vegetables require sharp knives and I therefore found myself cleaning the oven to ensure I was within supervision distance.
Sunday night I returned her to the unit. I was well aware that she had found the weekend hard. Her spirits had been very low. She had not self harmed and I was grateful for that, but instead there was a great sadness in her.
Yesterday, I heard nothing from her. She never turned on her phone. I decided to leave it. If she wanted me she could call. If there was a problem, the nurses would call. Even so, I did not rest easy.
This evening my husband and I visited the unit. Emily was nowhere to be seen. One of the other young people told us she was in her room upset and nurses were with her.
When she finally came into the corridor, where we waited, she was flanked by two nurses. This was unusual behaviour. We were later than normal and I wondered if it was a reaction to this.
Once in a small meeting room the nurses proceeded to inform us that Emily had been found curled up on the floor of her room by another young person. She was upset that someone, unseen to everyone else, was in the room with her. As I sat beside Emily her left leg shook up and down constantly, she looked at the ground and she aggressively worked a stress toy in her hands.
The nurses left. Emily shouted that the person she could see was sat in the room with us and ran out. When she came back with a nurse I talked to her about the daft things her brother had done. He'd done cooking at school and had added a tablespoon of black pepper instead of a teaspoon... We'd had his cooking for our evening meal. That was enough to make anyone laugh and from there we kept the conversation light and funny.
On the way home in the car, my husband started to try to analyse Emily's behaviour. In the end I stopped him. I don't know if Emily is really seeing things. I don't know what on earth is going on and no amount of talking is going to change that. One thing I do know, she doesn't appear to be getting any better, in fact I'd say she's getting worse.
Sunday, 14 October 2012
Rollercoaster
My one and only post on Facebook this week made reference to being on a roller coaster and the wish to have a go on the tea cups instead. One or two people knew why I'd posted this, but most did not.
Not only do I feel the ups and downs of this ride, but I feel I'm on one that's really rickety, the turns are sharp and frequent. The ride is also in the dark and I can not predict what emotion I will feel next.
One moment I think Emily is making progress. Last Saturday we went out bowling as a family and, whilst it could have been better, she got through it and it felt like an achievement.
Then she goes back to the unit and doesn't turn her phone on so I can't contact her. When I visit on the Tuesday she's sullen. She tells me she seeing someone in her room. I'm bewildered as I thought the voices and visions had calmed down. Now she tells me they never went away. I find myself looking at my child and thinking, 'Is she telling the truth?' What scares me now is that she could be exaggerating her symptoms because she wants to stay in the unit. The unit is not the real world, the unit is not stressful, for her the unit is safe.
Her nurse is also concerned that not everything rings true, but what do we do? Is she telling the truth or not?
On Wednesday the unit called me and suggested Emily come home for the night. I was happy to agree and went straight from work to collect her. I was really looking forward to having her at home instead of a hour visit in an uncomfortable chair. As I drove to the unit my head was filled with warmth and expectations of cuddles on the sofa.
The understanding was she could go back to the unit at 9pm if she didn't feel able to spend the night, otherwise we'd take her back the following morning, just in time for family therapy.
She was strange at home. She put on some 'catch up' tv but then disappeared from the room. A little later she said she was going in the shower. She'd got home at about 6.30pm, by 8.00pm she was obviously in distress and I took her upstairs to my room so we could talk on our own. She talked about not being able to cope, seeing things and wanting to go back to the unit. She told me she'd thought about drinking nail varnish remover in her room. She told me she'd gone in the shower with a dinner knife and tried, in vain, to cut her wrists. Then, she admitted that she had hurt herself since coming home. I had thought I'd found all the hidden pencil sharpener blades. It seems there was yet another concealed in her room. Despite having worked hard to let her arms heal, she had now undone all that work. Pulling up her sleeves the cuts were all back just centimetres apart, her legs had not gone unpunished either.
I was numb. I'd been allowed my daughter for an extra night and I'd failed everyone. She didn't want to stay the night and, if the truth be told, I didn't want her to stay either. I didn't want the responsibility. I knew her room at the unit was controlled and she would be safe. I guess that was her point.
I called the unit and explained. My voice was quiet and lifeless, I felt lifeless. I couldn't keep her safe.
Social Services have been in touch following on from the issues around Emily's father. I spoke to them at length. They were satisfied that the children are now of an age to make their own decision if they want to see him. They felt the children were no longer at risk and I agreed with them.
None of the professionals working with Emily has spoken to her father, I asked this week if this was going to happen. I am struggling to explain to him why she is not wanting to see him. The unit advised I could talk to him as they had no immediate plans to do so. Deep joy.
The phone rang on Friday night. I knew it would be him so I got to the phone first. I had thought long and hard about what I should say to him. In the end I said that therapy had brought out unpleasant memories of childhood for Emily, which involved him. Because of this, she wasn't wanting to see him at the moment. I didn't want to get into the whole "she said you did this" charade. I told him that it was likely he would be invited to family therapy to address some of these issues. He said ok and asked to speak to our son. I'm not sure what to make of that.
I have to admit to very uncharitable thoughts on Friday night. If it was me I would be frantic, wanting to know what the memories were about, what I had done, how I could put things right. As I went to bed I really hoped he was worrying and feeling ashamed, but part of me thought it was just as likely, he wouldn't have a clue about the part he's played.
Not only do I feel the ups and downs of this ride, but I feel I'm on one that's really rickety, the turns are sharp and frequent. The ride is also in the dark and I can not predict what emotion I will feel next.
One moment I think Emily is making progress. Last Saturday we went out bowling as a family and, whilst it could have been better, she got through it and it felt like an achievement.
Then she goes back to the unit and doesn't turn her phone on so I can't contact her. When I visit on the Tuesday she's sullen. She tells me she seeing someone in her room. I'm bewildered as I thought the voices and visions had calmed down. Now she tells me they never went away. I find myself looking at my child and thinking, 'Is she telling the truth?' What scares me now is that she could be exaggerating her symptoms because she wants to stay in the unit. The unit is not the real world, the unit is not stressful, for her the unit is safe.
Her nurse is also concerned that not everything rings true, but what do we do? Is she telling the truth or not?
On Wednesday the unit called me and suggested Emily come home for the night. I was happy to agree and went straight from work to collect her. I was really looking forward to having her at home instead of a hour visit in an uncomfortable chair. As I drove to the unit my head was filled with warmth and expectations of cuddles on the sofa.
The understanding was she could go back to the unit at 9pm if she didn't feel able to spend the night, otherwise we'd take her back the following morning, just in time for family therapy.
She was strange at home. She put on some 'catch up' tv but then disappeared from the room. A little later she said she was going in the shower. She'd got home at about 6.30pm, by 8.00pm she was obviously in distress and I took her upstairs to my room so we could talk on our own. She talked about not being able to cope, seeing things and wanting to go back to the unit. She told me she'd thought about drinking nail varnish remover in her room. She told me she'd gone in the shower with a dinner knife and tried, in vain, to cut her wrists. Then, she admitted that she had hurt herself since coming home. I had thought I'd found all the hidden pencil sharpener blades. It seems there was yet another concealed in her room. Despite having worked hard to let her arms heal, she had now undone all that work. Pulling up her sleeves the cuts were all back just centimetres apart, her legs had not gone unpunished either.
I was numb. I'd been allowed my daughter for an extra night and I'd failed everyone. She didn't want to stay the night and, if the truth be told, I didn't want her to stay either. I didn't want the responsibility. I knew her room at the unit was controlled and she would be safe. I guess that was her point.
I called the unit and explained. My voice was quiet and lifeless, I felt lifeless. I couldn't keep her safe.
Social Services have been in touch following on from the issues around Emily's father. I spoke to them at length. They were satisfied that the children are now of an age to make their own decision if they want to see him. They felt the children were no longer at risk and I agreed with them.
None of the professionals working with Emily has spoken to her father, I asked this week if this was going to happen. I am struggling to explain to him why she is not wanting to see him. The unit advised I could talk to him as they had no immediate plans to do so. Deep joy.
The phone rang on Friday night. I knew it would be him so I got to the phone first. I had thought long and hard about what I should say to him. In the end I said that therapy had brought out unpleasant memories of childhood for Emily, which involved him. Because of this, she wasn't wanting to see him at the moment. I didn't want to get into the whole "she said you did this" charade. I told him that it was likely he would be invited to family therapy to address some of these issues. He said ok and asked to speak to our son. I'm not sure what to make of that.
I have to admit to very uncharitable thoughts on Friday night. If it was me I would be frantic, wanting to know what the memories were about, what I had done, how I could put things right. As I went to bed I really hoped he was worrying and feeling ashamed, but part of me thought it was just as likely, he wouldn't have a clue about the part he's played.
Tuesday, 2 October 2012
Feeling sorry for myself
I'm not sure anyone in my house managed to get through the weekend without feeling ill, even the cats seem to have colds. My head, face and neck were so painful on Saturday. Painkillers wouldn't touch it so I spent most of the day with a hot water bottle attached to my face. Emily had tummy ache, so was also making use of a hot water bottle. My husband walked around like a zombie and to top it all we spent Saturday night/ Sunday morning alternating between my vomiting son and my scared crying daughter.
Emily went quietly back to the unit on Sunday. My son stayed off school on Monday. Today I dropped him at school, but I'd arranged to work from home, just in case I 'got a call'. I tried to do some work. The 'call' came at 11.30, so I went and brought him home. He's just overtired I think. He put himself to bed when we got in.
Since then I've been trying to work. I have been less than productive. I can do basic tasks, data input, typing up notes, checking details, answering e-mails etc. I can do anything that doesn't require decisions, creativity, flare, drive or enthusiasm. Unfortunately, there is only a small proportion of my role which doesn't require those things. I even struggled to think of those words to write here.
On top of everything going on around I am so terribly concious that deadlines are upon me for work I haven't even managed to start. I've worked for my employer for a number of years, they consider me hard working, conscientious and someone who gets things done. I am no longer that person, I wonder how long it will take them to realise?
I am so very very tired. It feels like there is nothing left. I just want to put myself to bed and stay there for a week. But I can't, tonight is visiting, tomorrow is work and parents evening and on and on it goes.
So I apologise today for my moaning (when there are many others far worse off) and for feeling sorry for myself.
Emily went quietly back to the unit on Sunday. My son stayed off school on Monday. Today I dropped him at school, but I'd arranged to work from home, just in case I 'got a call'. I tried to do some work. The 'call' came at 11.30, so I went and brought him home. He's just overtired I think. He put himself to bed when we got in.
Since then I've been trying to work. I have been less than productive. I can do basic tasks, data input, typing up notes, checking details, answering e-mails etc. I can do anything that doesn't require decisions, creativity, flare, drive or enthusiasm. Unfortunately, there is only a small proportion of my role which doesn't require those things. I even struggled to think of those words to write here.
On top of everything going on around I am so terribly concious that deadlines are upon me for work I haven't even managed to start. I've worked for my employer for a number of years, they consider me hard working, conscientious and someone who gets things done. I am no longer that person, I wonder how long it will take them to realise?
I am so very very tired. It feels like there is nothing left. I just want to put myself to bed and stay there for a week. But I can't, tonight is visiting, tomorrow is work and parents evening and on and on it goes.
So I apologise today for my moaning (when there are many others far worse off) and for feeling sorry for myself.
Saturday, 29 September 2012
Another week goes by
I've found it terribly hard this week. I've missed Emily so much. We get so
used to being able to phone or text our loved ones at any time that it is alien
when this option is removed. Emily's phone is usually in her possession for 2
hours per day, approximately 6pm - 8pm. The rest of the time it sits in a
safe. Sometimes she doesn’t collect it
at all.
She goes back to the unit on a Sunday evening and there is no visiting on Monday.. Obviously that makes it Tuesday night before I can see her. It seems such a long time. Messages were flying from my phone to hers on Monday evening, but it doesn't replace actually seeing her in the flesh.
On Monday morning I had my own Doctors appointment. She looked at me with pity in her eyes before increasing my medication and offering to refer me for a new batch of counselling. I’m not sure how long the waiting list will be, but I think it will be well worth exploring my first marriage and the problems my daughter is recalling from that time. I wonder if I can actually lay some of the crap to rest. Time will tell, it’s weird how I can hardly recall any details.
On Tuesday I went to visit Emily with my husband and son. We played games around a table and tried to keep it light hearted, but there were times when Emily cried. She says she missed cuddles the most and she can’t go to anyone when she wakes in the night.
Her father has wanted to see her this week, but she doesn’t want him to visit. This has caused some problems as he thinks it’s me being obstructive. I think our relationship has now reached a point of no return.
I’ve visited Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Emily tells me she finds it hard when I visit. She really wants to see me and have cuddles but then she misses me when I’ve gone. Trouble is I don’t think I could go without seeing her. That’s perhaps me being selfish. My biggest fear is that she’ll say she doesn’t want to see me, like she’s done with her father.
Today my Mum & Dad brought her home for the weekend. She is already showing signs of distress, she really wants to hurt herself. Tonight we had poster paints out in the living room and we both made colourful patterns. Tomorrow we will decorate squares of fabric, as I came up with the idea of us making squares for a patchwork quilt. It will be another full on intense weekend, but I don’t care. At least I have her home, if only for the weekend. I just need to keep her safe
She goes back to the unit on a Sunday evening and there is no visiting on Monday.. Obviously that makes it Tuesday night before I can see her. It seems such a long time. Messages were flying from my phone to hers on Monday evening, but it doesn't replace actually seeing her in the flesh.
On Monday morning I had my own Doctors appointment. She looked at me with pity in her eyes before increasing my medication and offering to refer me for a new batch of counselling. I’m not sure how long the waiting list will be, but I think it will be well worth exploring my first marriage and the problems my daughter is recalling from that time. I wonder if I can actually lay some of the crap to rest. Time will tell, it’s weird how I can hardly recall any details.
On Tuesday I went to visit Emily with my husband and son. We played games around a table and tried to keep it light hearted, but there were times when Emily cried. She says she missed cuddles the most and she can’t go to anyone when she wakes in the night.
Her father has wanted to see her this week, but she doesn’t want him to visit. This has caused some problems as he thinks it’s me being obstructive. I think our relationship has now reached a point of no return.
I’ve visited Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Emily tells me she finds it hard when I visit. She really wants to see me and have cuddles but then she misses me when I’ve gone. Trouble is I don’t think I could go without seeing her. That’s perhaps me being selfish. My biggest fear is that she’ll say she doesn’t want to see me, like she’s done with her father.
Today my Mum & Dad brought her home for the weekend. She is already showing signs of distress, she really wants to hurt herself. Tonight we had poster paints out in the living room and we both made colourful patterns. Tomorrow we will decorate squares of fabric, as I came up with the idea of us making squares for a patchwork quilt. It will be another full on intense weekend, but I don’t care. At least I have her home, if only for the weekend. I just need to keep her safe
Monday, 24 September 2012
Hard to write
I'm struggling with this post, it feels like a probe is going right into my core. What I need to share is upsetting, guilt ridden and makes me ashamed.
The weekend has been hard. It has been very intense. I've got up when Emily did and stuck to her side like glue. I've needed to. She's tried to take pins, thorns from bushes and dinner knives, all with the intention of self harm. This because I found what she'd been using to cut herself. We found them by accident really, last week. My son went to borrow her electronic spell checker, inside it he found a small razor blade. I discovered it had been removed from a pencil sharpener. When I found a second pencil sharpener with no blade I hunted around her room. I was lucky to find it, hidden in her glasses case. Without being able to harm herself, the weekend has been even more tough for her.
Another reason it was tough for her was, as she put it, "I've stitched up my dad".
We sat alone and I let Emily speak at her own pace. She has been speaking to people at the unit about her experiences as a child. Unbeknown to me some of her memories are not happy ones and these seem to centre around her father. She talked of being scared of him, of his bad temper, his shouting, his rough handling, his inability to show love and care. All of this was whilst we were married.
She went on to say when her and my son went to stay with him at weekends after we split up, he would feed them, but that would be all. She would look after her brother, she would tuck him in and kiss him goodnight.
Some of this I was aware of, some of it I wasn't. I do remember incidents when he hurt Emily in front of me because he lost his temper. I remember yelling at him and crying. Guilt has come pouring out of me like water through an exploding dam wall. There is so much I can't remember from that time, does it mean I shut it away? Could this even be the root of some of my own mental health problems?
I was suffering with terrible depression during my first marriage. He did not 'get it'. I'm sure at times he got angry with the kids because he was actually angry with me. I knew about abuse, but the times when he snapped and was physical were not that frequent and they were my fault, weren't they? I did stop him, I did shout at him, but maybe I should have done more. My Mum says I used to tell her some of this at the time, but I don't remember. I think if I had tried to tell anyone else, he would have laughed it off. He wasn't a nasty man, he just lost his temper sometimes. Mr Charisma, but that's not good enough is it? If I had done something before she was 8 maybe I could have saved her from this agony she now faces. I can't understand why I am almost seeming to defend him, even now. My head is saying, 'he's not a bad man', but then it says, 'no, but maybe he's a bad father'. Maybe I made him a bad father.
Maybe I can't accept that he may not be very nice, because what would that say about me?
I looked at my profile and thought, do I need to change this? It may be that it's not the school bullies that led us here. But then I thought, it's all still bullying even if it happens to now be at the hand of her father.
So, what happens now? The unit will explore some of these memories and in a few weeks time her father will be invited into therapy. I have said I want to attend too. I think we all need to hear what he says. We all need to face up to what this means for us. I am frightened of opening these wounds, but I have to do it if it will help Emily to heal. I fear there is so much I have locked away and I'm not sure I can cope with it.
That poor child has struggled through so much, hidden things from me for 'my protection'.
What happens if I turn out to be the monster?
The weekend has been hard. It has been very intense. I've got up when Emily did and stuck to her side like glue. I've needed to. She's tried to take pins, thorns from bushes and dinner knives, all with the intention of self harm. This because I found what she'd been using to cut herself. We found them by accident really, last week. My son went to borrow her electronic spell checker, inside it he found a small razor blade. I discovered it had been removed from a pencil sharpener. When I found a second pencil sharpener with no blade I hunted around her room. I was lucky to find it, hidden in her glasses case. Without being able to harm herself, the weekend has been even more tough for her.
Another reason it was tough for her was, as she put it, "I've stitched up my dad".
We sat alone and I let Emily speak at her own pace. She has been speaking to people at the unit about her experiences as a child. Unbeknown to me some of her memories are not happy ones and these seem to centre around her father. She talked of being scared of him, of his bad temper, his shouting, his rough handling, his inability to show love and care. All of this was whilst we were married.
She went on to say when her and my son went to stay with him at weekends after we split up, he would feed them, but that would be all. She would look after her brother, she would tuck him in and kiss him goodnight.
Some of this I was aware of, some of it I wasn't. I do remember incidents when he hurt Emily in front of me because he lost his temper. I remember yelling at him and crying. Guilt has come pouring out of me like water through an exploding dam wall. There is so much I can't remember from that time, does it mean I shut it away? Could this even be the root of some of my own mental health problems?
I was suffering with terrible depression during my first marriage. He did not 'get it'. I'm sure at times he got angry with the kids because he was actually angry with me. I knew about abuse, but the times when he snapped and was physical were not that frequent and they were my fault, weren't they? I did stop him, I did shout at him, but maybe I should have done more. My Mum says I used to tell her some of this at the time, but I don't remember. I think if I had tried to tell anyone else, he would have laughed it off. He wasn't a nasty man, he just lost his temper sometimes. Mr Charisma, but that's not good enough is it? If I had done something before she was 8 maybe I could have saved her from this agony she now faces. I can't understand why I am almost seeming to defend him, even now. My head is saying, 'he's not a bad man', but then it says, 'no, but maybe he's a bad father'. Maybe I made him a bad father.
Maybe I can't accept that he may not be very nice, because what would that say about me?
I looked at my profile and thought, do I need to change this? It may be that it's not the school bullies that led us here. But then I thought, it's all still bullying even if it happens to now be at the hand of her father.
So, what happens now? The unit will explore some of these memories and in a few weeks time her father will be invited into therapy. I have said I want to attend too. I think we all need to hear what he says. We all need to face up to what this means for us. I am frightened of opening these wounds, but I have to do it if it will help Emily to heal. I fear there is so much I have locked away and I'm not sure I can cope with it.
That poor child has struggled through so much, hidden things from me for 'my protection'.
What happens if I turn out to be the monster?
Trust broken, trust restored
On Thursday last week, I arranged for my son to have time off school to attend family therapy. He was upset that his sister was now a resident, so I thought it would be good for him to see where she was and also have an opportunity to maybe say how he was feeling.
The session started without Emily, which is not unusual. Our therapist talked to my son about Cahms, therapy and mental health. She then told me that Emily had said something in a 1-1 session which she needed to share. She told us that since our Wedding Emily felt pushed out and was not receiving as much attention. I burst into tears and looked over at my husband to see shock and disbelief on his face. My emotions were in turmoil. I couldn't understand what more we could do for Emily, so to think she felt like this well, I was devastated.
I spoke of when we were first together 6 years before and admitted, at that time, Emily had said my, now husband, was getting more kisses and cuddles than her. We took that straight on board there and then, cuddles began to include the kids and we did everything we could make them feel part of something, rather than on the edge of it. I asked if this could have been what Emily referred to, no I was told. It was since our Wedding.
When Emily entered the session, she was unsure why I was so upset. The therapist talked about how our family had changed and was leading up to trying to discuss the comment she had made in her 1-1. I studied Emily. If she had said something that she knew would upset me, and was waiting for this to be discussed, she would have been panicky. She was not, she was calm, bordering on bored. When the alleged conversation was finally revealed it was quite clear by her reaction that she had no idea what the therapist was talking about. Her comments of "I don't understand what's going on here", "I don't remember saying anything", "I haven't said that, I wanted them to get married, it made it better" were brushed aside by the therapist. The therapist made the assumption that Emily was denying her comments because they had upset me, but she was denying them because she had not said it. When she finally stormed out of the room, it was not because she was expressing her anger, as we were told, it was because the therapist would not listen to her. My husband was really angry, he told the therapist this, he did not shout, because that's not him, but he told her something must have been misunderstood. My son was sobbing on my knee, I was sobbing and somewhere in the unit, Emily was sobbing.
I left the unit in an almost catatonic state. This was all wrong. It was being made out that the bullying was the tip of the iceberg and actually we were causing the problem.
When we visited Emily that evening we sat as a family and discussed everything that had happened. Emily had assumed we would be upset and cross with her. She assumed we had believed the therapist. It turned out that Emily's actual comment in response to a question about our relationship was "I guess I don't get as much time just on my own with Mum" How this got built up into the statement from earlier that day I can not begin to imagine, but it did throw up serious concerns about what information was being acted upon and whether that information is correct. Later that evening I sat and wrote an email to the therapist detailing our family discussions and our concerns. I did accept that there are times when the perception of one person is different to another, but that this was not the case.
On Friday morning I asked for a meeting to clear up my concerns. I couldn't rest and I certainly couldn't go into the weekend with all this doubt and mistrust hanging over us. It felt like we had just become the enemy.
As my husband was at work, my Mum came with me. I met with the therapist and Doctor. To cut a long story short we heard from the nurse who agreed Emily had only said about not getting as much time on her own with me. No one said they had made a mistake, but it was apparent they knew they had. We talked, Mum talked and I left feeling like a weight had been lifted with my trust in them restored.
.
The session started without Emily, which is not unusual. Our therapist talked to my son about Cahms, therapy and mental health. She then told me that Emily had said something in a 1-1 session which she needed to share. She told us that since our Wedding Emily felt pushed out and was not receiving as much attention. I burst into tears and looked over at my husband to see shock and disbelief on his face. My emotions were in turmoil. I couldn't understand what more we could do for Emily, so to think she felt like this well, I was devastated.
I spoke of when we were first together 6 years before and admitted, at that time, Emily had said my, now husband, was getting more kisses and cuddles than her. We took that straight on board there and then, cuddles began to include the kids and we did everything we could make them feel part of something, rather than on the edge of it. I asked if this could have been what Emily referred to, no I was told. It was since our Wedding.
When Emily entered the session, she was unsure why I was so upset. The therapist talked about how our family had changed and was leading up to trying to discuss the comment she had made in her 1-1. I studied Emily. If she had said something that she knew would upset me, and was waiting for this to be discussed, she would have been panicky. She was not, she was calm, bordering on bored. When the alleged conversation was finally revealed it was quite clear by her reaction that she had no idea what the therapist was talking about. Her comments of "I don't understand what's going on here", "I don't remember saying anything", "I haven't said that, I wanted them to get married, it made it better" were brushed aside by the therapist. The therapist made the assumption that Emily was denying her comments because they had upset me, but she was denying them because she had not said it. When she finally stormed out of the room, it was not because she was expressing her anger, as we were told, it was because the therapist would not listen to her. My husband was really angry, he told the therapist this, he did not shout, because that's not him, but he told her something must have been misunderstood. My son was sobbing on my knee, I was sobbing and somewhere in the unit, Emily was sobbing.
I left the unit in an almost catatonic state. This was all wrong. It was being made out that the bullying was the tip of the iceberg and actually we were causing the problem.
When we visited Emily that evening we sat as a family and discussed everything that had happened. Emily had assumed we would be upset and cross with her. She assumed we had believed the therapist. It turned out that Emily's actual comment in response to a question about our relationship was "I guess I don't get as much time just on my own with Mum" How this got built up into the statement from earlier that day I can not begin to imagine, but it did throw up serious concerns about what information was being acted upon and whether that information is correct. Later that evening I sat and wrote an email to the therapist detailing our family discussions and our concerns. I did accept that there are times when the perception of one person is different to another, but that this was not the case.
On Friday morning I asked for a meeting to clear up my concerns. I couldn't rest and I certainly couldn't go into the weekend with all this doubt and mistrust hanging over us. It felt like we had just become the enemy.
As my husband was at work, my Mum came with me. I met with the therapist and Doctor. To cut a long story short we heard from the nurse who agreed Emily had only said about not getting as much time on her own with me. No one said they had made a mistake, but it was apparent they knew they had. We talked, Mum talked and I left feeling like a weight had been lifted with my trust in them restored.
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)